Walking Twelve Steps Back
by Tharion
Summary: A small collection of drabbles I've decided to post on here. It'll grow over time, I imagine.
1. Explosive Failures

**Drabble Title:** _Explosive Failures_ _  
_ **Rating:** _T_ _  
_ **Warnings:** -  
 **Word Count:** _406_  
 **Summary:** _A failed experiment isn't often this explosive._  
 **Notes:** _This'll be my little dumping grounds for any drabbles I feel the need to write while I'm frequenting this pleasant site. As of now I've only the one, but one day I'm hoping to have at least a dozen of these up here._

* * *

There's a certain kind of pleasantness in finding out your latest experiment has just blown a hole through the dungeon's ceiling.

I mean, sure, it was only a small part, but an explosion is an explosion, no?

The people who were in the library upstairs are… probably less pleased than us, but at least we know it works.

The room – as it was before its sudden expansion – smells of burnt toast and flamed cranberries. What, exactly, a flamed cranberry is escaped both me and my glorious replica next to me, but we heard one of the onlookers above us squeak it out once the smell started to escape through a thick cloud, so we'll just take his word for it.

Speaking of onlookers, I think I hear… Yes, I do believe that's Snape's – Professor Snape's – robe dragging behind him. I look at the red-headed mirror to my left to confirm that I'm not just hearing things.

Nope.

Well then, I guess it's time to leave a surprise.

The dust is thinning, but not yet enough for anyone to see beyond. I quickly grab what materials we have, watching as my brother does the same before we both take off through a hidden latch, opened by tapping it thrice in quick succession and kicking it up when that fails you.

There is a reason we chose this room, after all.

Forge – Or is it Gred? I can never keep track – goes down first, a bundle of tools in his robe. As I'm descending the wooden hatch, I toss back a small, almost gum-like object. It sticks to the floor and begins to inflate.

The door opens up ominously behind us, but we're gone by then, our hands full of clinking metal and glass that weighs us down. No way in hell are we losing these to Flinch; it'd take an eternity to smuggle it all back!

The hatch behind us doesn't open again, as far as we know. Soon, we're sprinting up out the exit-painting, one which is conveniently placed on the fifth floor, near several unused classrooms and far from the chaos.

As we slide down the wall, sweating from places we didn't know we had, we turn to each other and begin to grin.

"So, that recipe for the Whiz-bangs is out. Any ideas what went wrong, brother-mine?"

"I think it was the lilacs. Too much of it and the Aquavit **æ** obviously causes adverse effects."


	2. Tea Time with Gellert

**Drabble Title:** _Tea Time with Gellert_ **  
Rating:** _T_ **  
Warnings: -  
Word Count: **_430  
_ **Summary:** _As a young Gellert Grindelwald nears ever closer to his first Deathly Hallow, he begins to hope for his better future._ **  
Notes: -**

* * *

A church looms over Godric's Hollow, hiding the two boys – barely yet men – from view. The shortest, an auburn-haired man dressed in old, demure clothes leaned against the wall of the building, his eyes shining brightly as he stared at his taller companion.

"We must move soon, my friend. I'm almost there, I can feel it!" The blond man's voice had an eager enthusiasm to it. "Afterwards, it'll be a quick slash to our victory."

The blue eyes of the man leaning against the church lost some of their sheen when he glanced down uncertainly, a small frown marring his face.

"Gellert… Are you sure about this? You know it could fail. If it does…" He trailed off, his frown deepening.

"Oh, Albus…" His head shook, his long fingers inching up to caress the other's face and point it to his. "I'm positive. This is what we're meant to do, my friend. This is what we've always been meant to do."

He let go of him, turning around and pacing the ground energetically.

"The muggles… They are uneducated, cared for not by their superiors but instead by those who dare impose their authority over them for want of power. This must change. We cannot ignore their plights anymore, not when we have a duty, a responsibility to aid them! They must be governed and protected by us, not ignored and left to their filth."

Albus' head rose slowly, his frown lightening but not quite leaving him.

"This will be a war, Gellert. It will end with so many dead… Can we face the guilt that'll leave us? Can we make that decision? Should we?"

Gellert turned once more to him, a fond smile on his face.

"It is the height of all evil to leave the unprivileged to their faith when one has the power to aid them, is it not? We cannot, in all moral conscious, allow the muggles to remain alone in a world whose understanding they barely grasp," His hands gestured to the graveyard behind him. "There will be death, Albus. This I know. I will never be able to sentence another being to their death simply for the sake of it, but this cause… It outweighs any one person. You know this, Albus."

The man's blue eyes shut, remaining so for several silent seconds. The taller one let his friend think, moving only to rest his hands at his side. His breath came in controlled gasps as he attempted to calm himself.

"It does."

Gellert smiled, his eyes alight in happiness.


	3. Of Letters and Flames

**Drabble Title:** _Of Letters and Fire_ **  
Rating:** _T_ **  
Warnings: -  
Word Count: **_398_ _  
_ **Summary:** _A letter sent by a mad man to a young child inspires a certain dreadful curiousity in him._ **  
Notes:**

* * *

 _Dearest heir,_

 _Twelve moons have been granted to you. Twelve moons of peace, to allow you safety in this time of… strife. Twelve of preparation, so that you may grow strong enough to face what you see as the coming darkness. Twelve months since your last defeat, so you may recuperate._

 _Tell me, what have you gained from this time?_

 _Nothing._

 _Your companions abandon you in an elegant prison. Your leader leads you on wild chases then excludes you half-way through them for fear of hurting you. You sit alone in your emptied castle and do_ nothing _._

 _Potter, you have disappointed me._

 _Still, as per ancient tradition, a candle has been lit for your day of birth._

 _Godric's Hollow burned brightly, young one._

 _Evermore, Voldemort_

The parchment fell from his shaking hands, landing on the ground in a small lump.

His eyes shut, his mouth opening as he forced himself to _breathe, damn it. Breathe._

A moment later and he shook himself, stopping his incessant shaking with a pointed glare. He kneeled down, picking up the parchment and bringing it to his face.

He thought for a moment about what to do with it.

He stared longingly towards the headmaster's office, but after a moment turned his back and began to walk to his room.

He had a letter to write.

* * *

 _What broke you into what you are now?_

* * *

A fire roared through the broken church, basking the forest behind it in a pleasant glow.

Laughter sprang up from the town, quieting the occasional scream.

A white owl, larger than average and far more beautiful than most, soared high above, circling near the forest entrance before diving down.

A lone figure was standing there, watching the chaos unravel through the town. The hill provided ample view, letting him see the black-robed figures dancing around the civilian-dressed wizards and witches below. He glanced up as he spotted the shadow of the owl on the ground.

The white owl landed on the man's outstretched arm, claws catching securely into the soft sleeves. He gently undid the attached letter at her feet, taking it from her a moment before she flew off, chirping loudly and heading north.

He broke the seal, a bronze-coloured thing with a simple _H_ printed into the middle. The parchment within unravelled, a small thing barely a hand's breadth.

A cold smile played on the madman's lips.


	4. Fire & Taboo

**Drabble Title:** _Fire & Taboo_ **  
** **Rating:** _T_ **  
** **Warnings:** _Character Death_ **  
** **Word Count:** _811  
_ **Summary:** _An AU in which Draco, after losing his parents to the Dark Lord's wrath, leaves his service. Sometime after that, he's recruited by the remains of the Order to help them out in exchange for protection. That protection fails him, however, and the rest is, as they say, history._ **  
** **Notes:** _This is an AU, obviously, but I think it's interesting how different the story would have changed if something like Draco leaving the Death Eaters' were to happen. It probably wouldn't be anything like this, and it's not like there aren't a million other stories showing that particular_ what-if _, but still. Food for thought._

* * *

The sun bounced off his hair, turning it into a pale – almost white – colour. The quill shook in his hand, creating an aggravating _tip-tip-tip_ against the parchment, staining its corner an ugly black.

"Crap," He glared at it, pulling his hand away and dropping the quill into the nearly-empty ink jar next to him.

The room was as large as it was empty. A small bed tucked into a corner and a small desk near the sole window made up most of the furniture in it. Piled on top of said desk were a small, oddly shaped horn and a haphazard wall of discarded books and papers that looked to be held up more through force of will than anything else.

The desk began to shake. The quiet room filled with the sound of objects in the nearby rooms falling. Outside of the small, two-story apartment wards began to flash colourful blues that dipped into harsh lilacs.

"Crap," He backed away from the window as it began to crack.

They were here.

He quickly gathered his notes, his papers and his quills and all his stained equipment. He couldn't carry it all, however.

"Calm. You've been waiting for this-"The window nearest him shuddered and, with a loud shattering noise, fell in on itself and sent shards of glass scattering over his desk.

"Well then," He mumbled, his breath coming out in quick gasps. His mind whirled around itself as he bent to pick up his wand, a straight piece of Hawthorn strung together with a Unicorn hair. It held up as he poured magic into it, sending a burning whip of white flames straight into the desk. It shred through it like it was nothing, sending burning knots of fire reeling up through the remains.

The papers quickly took, though the dormant magic in them reacted fiercely. He smirked as he heard his front door bang open.

He turned his back to the desk, which had slowly begun to leak a dark, powdery gas into the air. It twirled in on itself and seemed to dance above the ghostly white flames that consumed the man's work.

A quick tap of his wand conjured an owl made entirely of wood. He breathed out, tired by the sudden rush of magic before he quickly gave it a single piece of paper.

"Tak-" Behind his door, he heard the shattering sound of a wall being blasted. They had gotten onto the second floor.

"Take this to Granger, she'll know what to do with it!" He whispered to the creature urgently, almost forcing it over the fire and out the window.

It was gone in a moment, and just in time.

The door at his back was blasted inward, sending shards that scratched at his skin painfully. He flinched when he turned around and saw the monster behind it all.

"Draco…" The snake slithered, almost glided over to the blond man. His wand hung loosely at his hands, a smirk stained his lips.

"What do we have here?" His eyes turned to the fire remains of the desk and the black smoke rising from it.

Instead of answering, the young man simply glared, his hands shaking as he clutched his wand.

"No? Nothing?" His eyes turned downward for a moment. An instant later, the blackened and still-burning corner of a page lay in his grey hands. He read off of it as it burned away.

"A counter-curse for the Taboo? My, someone's ambitious…" He sneered and tossed the burning thing away.

"Better people than you have tried, my boy. A shame you destroyed all your research," He stepped closer, nearly two feet away now. Draco stepped back, and the Dark Lord closed in on him quickly. He grabbed him by his jaw and held his face up as if he was inspecting it.

"You know what happens to traitors, Draco."

The young man, shivering and with tears in his eyes, spit.

The elder's eyes widened before he threw the other into the fire with impressive strength.

"You _dare_."

Draco felt the flames lick at his body, burning him and roasting him and _ohgodsthepain_ —But he held in his screams and simply looked back into the angry red eyes of the monster.

Behind him, he felt the flames begin to encompass the small horn he kept on his desk.

"Go to hell," He spat out, feeling the fire activate the Erumpent horn behind him.

The second floor collapsed in the proceeding explosion. The apartment, once a simple brick house, was now a ruin beyond repair.

Nothing more than another casualty of his war.

His last sight, though he knew by now that he was both dead and seeing things, was his mother. She closed in on him, her warm arms wrapping around him like rays of light. He relaxed into them, finally at peace with himself.


End file.
